Leo

Ok, so, we were at a bar on the Champs D'Elysee, sitting outside under a couple of those gas-powered heating things and there is a large gathering just down the road. We have a look and see thats its a cinema with a large crowd and red carpet. Hmmmm. Premier of The Aviator. Hmmmmm. We return to the bar. About half an hour later there is a burst of screams, so it looks like someone has turned up. We trot back over..........nope. Being drunk(ish) we decide to lurk in the crowd, wait for Leo to turn up and then heckle.
30 mins later, and after lots of (we assume) famous french people, no Leo and no-one we recognise so we decide that we are going to be late for dinner, and that we are terminally sad for waiting so long. A brief walk, jog, run later we get to the Arc De Triumph, and find out that our hotel is directly on the other side of the bloody roundabout. We are already late for dinner so decide on a mad suicide run, trusting to the skill and reactions of the average French driver to keep us alive. From over my shoulder I can her Mark muttering "I will not die on French soil. Not on French soil."